


Recoding Us

by sarai377



Series: Cyborg AU [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 19:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarai377/pseuds/sarai377
Summary: Sequel to Fault in the Code. Scifi/Modern AU. Two years after the war, Chrom works with one of the best manakete technicians to repair the damage to Robin’s code… and bring him back to life. Chrom’s hope - and Robin’s time - is running out.mChrobin





	Recoding Us

Chrom pauses, fingers almost to the door. He draws in a deep breath, taking this precious moment to himself. He’s turned off notifications on his tablet for everything except the most important messages - Frederick and Lissa - and in this empty, forgotten hall, he can let himself come out. Just for a moment, before all the demands of his kingdom fall back on his shoulders. It’s taken him a long time to find this calm again. 

Another breath, and he’s ready. He touches the door, and it glides open. The room is filled with soft, golden light. Rhythmic hissing and whirring drifts out to him, punctuated by the soft chatter of accepted programming code. 

He’s spent more time in this room than he has in his own quarters, in the past two years, since repelling the Plegian invasion back to their planet. 

His people laud him as the prince who protected them, who gave up almost everything to keep them safe. They whisper about him, behind his back, and watch him with ever-evolving combinations of pity and worship. 

Chrom knows what some of them say.  _ It’s been two years. Surely he’s moved on by now? _

He has not. Maybe he never will. Not while this room and its precious contents exist. Not when hope smolders in his chest, embers that won't fade.

Chrom walks to the desk, avoiding the pod. 

The manakete at the desk finishes her typing, and blinks owlishly up at him. Her face is cast with blue light from the screen projected off the desk surface before her. It highlights her smooth, almost-human skin. 

Chrom knows he doesn’t look that good, and never will. She’s a pure-blooded manakete, and practically immortal. 

She smiles, baring pointed canine teeth. “Prince Chrom,” she greets. 

“Lady Tiki.” Chrom gives her a short bow. 

The manaketes have worked in partnership with Ylisse for centuries, trading space on the Ylissean homeworld and moons for their unique dragonstone technology. But they are sometimes aloof, and most of them scorned the call to arms to protect against Plegia’s mounting invasion. Things have been... tricky with their allies, since the war. 

When Chrom went to the manakete emissary with his strange request, they sent him to Tiki, one of their brightest technicians. Tiki had listened, and ultimately agreed to help. Chrom is certain her acceptance had less to do with his plight, and more to do with the opportunity to get her hands on unique Plegian cyborg technology. Manaketes are fascinated by new things, and Tiki is no exception. She and Lucina loved meeting each other. 

“Are you still ready?” she asks, leaning into the desk to peer up at him. 

He tries to project determination in a nod, although he’s not sure if she sees it. 

Tiki hasn’t had much interaction with humans in centuries - she’s old, and recently awoke from an extended slumber. Sometimes she gets extreme bouts of narcolepsy, and more than once Chrom has found her asleep at the desk. But she has always been enthusiastic about the project. 

Tiki tilts her head and grins. “As humans say, it’s T minus 3 days away.” 

That’s not what they say, and Chrom’s mouth twitches toward a smile. 

“I’m more than ready,” he says, as the doubts and fears gather in his stomach.   _ What if… what if _ … No. He’s more than these fears, more than ready to have him back. 

Tiki gives him a nod, her eyes already drifting to her work. Chrom lets her get back to it. He draws in a breath and turns toward the pod. It sits around hip height, two and a half meters long and barely one across. A cluster of wires trail down from the desk and across the floor to the pod. Chrom carefully steps across it. 

He steels himself against the sight through the glass viewport. 

Robin lays curled inside. Tubes and wires encircle his wrists, shoved down his throat, coming out the back of his head, behind his ear. He’s facing away from Chrom today, turned over by the pod. He twitches, as if in a dream, electromagnetic stimulation keeping his body limber. Even with all the pod’s conveniences, stagnation has taken its toll on that once-vibrant body. His dark Plegian skin is wan, his hair looks a bit like straw, and his wrists are boney. 

Last week, Lucina had said, in her delicate voice, “He looks sick.” She'd patted the pod, as if her small hand could make it all better. Then she'd patted Chrom's hand. “Ti-ti will make him better.” Tiki had looked unexpectedly solemn, at this. 

The pod controls all his autonomic functions. None of Robin’s programming survived the forced shutdown, and when Chrom dragged Robin’s lifeless body back to Lissa, they were able to install temporary life-support through the exosuit. Back on the  _ Shepherd _ , they put him in a basic pod, meant to keep critical patients stabilized for up to a week. 

His current pod is meant for long-space-haul hibernation. After the first month, Tiki suggested they activate the feeding tube. Chrom hadn’t expected it to take two years - but he didn’t know the damage back then. 

He exhales, slow and measured. Two years. It’s been two years since he last felt Robin’s attention, since he heard his voice. He’s forgotten what it sounds like, having precious few recordings from the frantic time at war. 

His hand goes to his side, massaging the spot where Robin stabbed straight through his exosuit. It’s an ugly melted scar, but Chrom keeps it. 

For a moment, he thinks Robin will turn and stare up at him through the glass, that this was all an elaborate rolling nightmare. But the shifting subsides, and Robin goes still. 

When they wake him up, and install the updated programming, stripped of every trace of this Grima.exe virus… will Robin’s consciousness still be there? 

“Fight for me,” Chrom whispers, and blinks a few times. “You owe me a wedding on the beach.” 

Then he returns to Tiki’s side. If he’s breathing a little heavier than normal, Tiki doesn’t seem to notice. 

“The latest test is complete.” Tiki has been working in a test environment, simulating what might happen when they restart Robin. “These are the results.” She twists the 3D screen and Chrom leans in. 

It’s not good. There’s less than a forty percent chance that Robin’s consciousness will come back.

Tiki explains what she will try in the next simulation, but Chrom barely hears her over the pounding of his own heart. 

It’s better than their first attempt, three weeks ago, but it’s still not good enough. 

They started the wake-up cycle on the pod that morning - in three days Robin will be ready. 

They will be ready for him. 

_ Three days _ , Chrom thinks.  _ In three days, Robin will be back with me _ . 

He refuses to believe otherwise. 

~*~ 

Chrom has Frederick cancel all his meetings for the day. Lucina is upset he won't come around for lunch, until Lissa distracts her with the promise of iced strawberries.

He thinks about telling Frederick or Lissa what they are going to attempt, but he doesn’t want them hanging around, watching him with those piteous looks they sometimes toss, behind his back. He doesn’t want their worry to distract him from what needs to be done. Over the past two years, he’s learned more about Plegian cyborg coding than any Ylissean before. Tiki understands every part of it, but Chrom helps as much as he can, when he can. 

“Milord…” Frederick starts, but then stops when he gets a look at Chrom’s face. “You do look a bit… peaked. Please, let me know if you need anything.” 

Frederick will likely be watching his vitals via tablet, but there’s nothing to be done about that. If this doesn’t work - It will. 

It has to. 

Chrom’s hand is clenched by his side, and he relaxes it with effort. 

“I’ll be downstairs,” he tells Frederick, and they both know exactly what room he means. Frederick doesn’t have to ask. 

Tiki is napping when Chrom gets there, her head pillowed on the projection screen. Chrom rushes to her side, and gives her a gentle shake, but she doesn’t stir. After calling her name a few times, Chrom heaves a sigh, and then picks up her remarkably heavy body - all that matter for her draconic form has to come from somewhere - and carries her to the couch behind the desk. 

Then he paces around the desk, trailing fingers along the pod, back to the couch. Precious seconds are passing - maybe they could fit in one more test run. 

As he passes the desk, a soft chime calls his attention. Tiki was in the middle of the latest attempt. The percentage at the end makes his stomach ache.  _ Six percent.  _

Chrom sinks into the chair, scrubbing at his eyes. He wants to pull Falchion, to feel the comforting hum, to know there is someone out there he can  _ kill _ that will bring Robin back to life. This agonizing death-by-numbers is too much. 

It will be over soon, one way or another. 

“I guess that won’t work,” Tiki says, and puts her hand comfortingly on Chrom’s arm. Chrom flinches, and the chair hovers back. 

She looks alert, refreshed, her slitted eyes expanding and contracting as she takes in the data. “I wanted to see what would happen if we tried opening the consciousness gate first. Better to get the body up and running before then.” 

“What was the percentage before?” 

“Seventy-three,” Tiki says, worrying her lip with a sharp tooth. 

“Are you…” Chrom clears his throat, and laces his fingers together. “Are you going to be able to do this? I can’t have you falling asleep… We only get one chance.” 

For a moment, she just stares at him, and Chrom wonders if he’s said something to offend her.

Tiki pulls a little blister pack of pills from her pocket. “Stim pills,” she explains, pressing them into his hand. “If you see me nodding off… put one of these under my tongue. It should combat it.” She looks at him for a few more moments. He’s grown used to her reactions, pleasure and excitement and grim determination, but she's like opaque privacy glass now. She clasps her hands together, her eyes green and black in the golden light. “Prince Chrom, I know how important this is. I know you want him back. I will do my best to return him safely to you.” 

Chrom looks down, certain if he meets her gentle gaze any longer he will burst into tears. His throat is tight and his eyes are hot. Tiki comes around the chair from behind and hugs him, pressing her cheek to his hair. Her skin is warm - manakete internal temperature is a lot hotter than human. 

Chrom is shaking. “Thank you,” he chokes out, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at that percentage any longer. Robin  _ will _ come back. 

He has to. 

“Shall we begin?” Tiki asks softly. 

Chrom holds the pills in his hand, and stares across the room at the pod. “Let’s do this,” he says.

~*~

_ … him. I saved him!  _

_ <Outside tampering detected> _

_ <Safe mode engaged> _

_ <Core Temperature: 40 Celcius> _

_ <Internal cooling activated> _

_ <Critical failure: reboot recommended> _

_ <Heartrate: Chrom, 118 bpm> _

Red lettering scrolls through his mind, and he clings to the last carat as it fades. 

Something is wrong. Someone has been messing with his mind, his functions. His body feels encased in stone, and he has the vague impression it's been a while. 

_ I saved him… _ The last thing he was thinking about, but what does it mean? 

As his data feed reboots, Robin reaches for recent memories, noting timestamps with mounting panic. There are pieces missing, chunks of time where data has been corrupted. He remembers the look on Chrom’s face during a morning’s lovemaking... searing pain through his shoulder as someone saws through bone… raising the Levin sword…

Red letters glittering in Chrom’s visor - Corrupted.

_ How am I awake? Does this mean…  Chrom… _

He remembers stabbing Chrom with strange electricity emanating from his fingers.

_ <Find Grima.exe> _ He is almost afraid to see the answer. 

_ <Files quarantined and scheduled for deletion.> _ Relief floods him, and he searches back through the notifications for the one about Chrom’s heartrate. 

He’s alive. 

_ I didn’t kill him.  _ Relief washes warm through him. 

The red data stream flows onward, commands and prompts he hasn’t initiated. Who is Tiki, and why are they messing with his cyborg elements? 

He puts up a block and pushes them away. There's a ping, and a message marked urgent.

_ <Tiki: Trying to help you. Let us back in.> _

_ <Who is "us"?> _

_ <Chrom: It's me, Robin. I asked Tiki to help.> _ It’s signed from Chrom’s personal, fingerprint-locked tablet. Odds are high that it’s actually Chrom on the other end.

Robin relaxes.  _ <Chrom. Are you alright?> _

_ <Tiki: Do you feel your body?> _

_ <Chrom: I am now.> _

_ <Good.> _

_ <Tiki: Can you sense your body?> _

He pauses, assesses.  _ <It’s… distant.> _

_ <Tiki: Let me fix that. Keep everything open so I can get in...> _

There’s a sensation almost like an itch, all over. He doesn’t like this forced intimacy, doesn’t like not being in control. He knows this Tiki’s in his code, feels the ephemeral touch of their keystrokes, but he can't follow along, not fully. 

Suddenly Robin  _ feels _ his body again. He falls into it, and it encases him like a heavy padded grav-suit. He breathes, or tries to, but something is in the way, going at cross purposes with him. It feels a bit like he’s drowning. He jerks, but that  _ hurts _ , things shifting inside his body that shouldn’t be there. He wants to scream, but he can’t even do that. 

_ <What are you doing to me?> _ The words lash out from his mind, but they come out flat, emotionless. 

_ <Chrom: Let her help. You're coming out of suspension, so it's okay that you're confused.> _

_ <Tiki: Let me in, Robin.> _

It’s not that easy. Robin tries to relax, but forcing that makes his body tense in other ways. His fingers and toes curl. Strange, irrational desires rush through him. It feels  _ wrong _ to have Tiki’s hand in his code, manipulating everything. He watches, panic rising to claw at his throat, until he feels his body trembling with it. It’s like a badly-judged spear to the stomach. He just wants to rip it out, despite  _ knowing _ that doing that won’t be good. 

< _ I don't like this.> _

_ <Chrom: Hang in there.> _

There’s something between his teeth, down his throat, and when he swallows it rasps uncomfortably. 

He focuses on moving just one hand, puts all his energy into bringing shaky fingers toward his face. If he can just reach the obstruction... But both hands move, the other one dragged along, and then they stop. There’s a pressure on his wrist, his fingers are too far, much too far away, he just can't reach... Robin shifts his head forward, but is pulled back by sharp, twisted pain, as one of the plugs secured in his brain threatens to give. Warnings blaze across closed eyelids, painted scarlet. Tiki and Chrom both send messages, but the words blur and clot. 

Robin forces one eye open. The curved surface hovering close, cast in melted red, only makes the trapped sensation worse. 

He can’t reach. 

The urge to thrash rises. 

Trapped. 

It  _ itches _ . 

_ <No - I - Give me - Get out. Get out!> _ He tries to push Tiki away, to wrest back control, but she’s wedged her access wide open, as if expecting something like this. Every code file, she’s got her ephemeral spidery legs in, and when he shoves her out, reverses her changes, she moves her attention elsewhere. She’s got too much control. 

_ <Foreign substance entering bloodstream. Neutralize?> _

_ <Neutralize.> _ Robin doesn’t have to think twice about rejecting whatever poison is coming for him. Not in this state, when, despite Chrom’s messages, he still isn’t sure he trusts Tiki. 

In desperation, Robin reaches for the deactivation file. It doesn’t open at his touch. She’s locked him out of it. 

_ <Nonononononono> _

A visceral memory rises - another pod, being held down against his will, the shock-absence-pain of a missing limb, the stab deep inside his skull where no sensation should ever be. In that instant, he knows - he was whole before the cyborg installation, and someone cut away pieces to replace them. Someone  _ removed _ his arm to give him this cyborg construct. It’s a memory he never wanted back.

He fights to breathe, everything swirling around him, closer and closer. 

“Listen to me, Robin. Can you hear me?” 

It’s Chrom’s voice, fed right into his mind, ringing like a bell.

Robin pauses, and feels his body take a slow, unhurried breath. 

Chrom continues, a stream of words that means everything and nothing. He talks, his voice a bit rougher than Robin is used to. “I’m here,” he says, “I’m right here with you. We’ll get you out soon. Open your eyes.” 

_ <I don’t like this. Chrom, please…> _ But Robin does, squints one eye open. 

A hand presses to the curved glass, and then a familiar face. “Hey,” Chrom says, mouth quivering. There’s a microsecond or two of delay between mouth and words, but Robin doesn’t care. 

Chrom is here.  _I saved him._

“Listen to me, that’s right, relax.” He glances back over his shoulder, and then focuses on Robin again. There are more lines around his mouth, now, as if a frown has permanently creased his skin. Time has passed. “We put you in a suspension pod to keep your body stable. We’ve removed all traces of that virus from your code, but it left a lot of damage. Tiki is working to stabilize your software. You have to stop fighting her. Later you can work with her to repair everything to your liking, but now, I need you to stay calm. And stop fighting.” 

Another breath. Robin unclenches his jaw around the obstruction, attention split between Tiki’s ministrations and Chrom’s voice. She is helping, he thinks. 

Chrom rubs the smooth glass of the pod, as if he’d touch Robin, if he could. Robin almost feels it, memory supplying the calloused edge of his thumb, the oddly-soft inner palm. 

If Robin doesn’t think about his breathing, it almost feels natural. Suspension pods usually have intubation, and muscle stimulants, and sometimes even mechanisms to shift the body. This is why he’s restrained, why there’s something down his throat, why there are wires and plugs in the back of his head. 

Wires and plugs, through which Tiki is forcing changes to his code. He lingers partially in what she’s doing, slowing her down, even when he doesn’t mean to. 

It all feels so wrong, but Robin knows Chrom. This is the man he knows, who said, in a disconnected snippet of memory,  _ “I’ll carve our names into the wall of the castle.” _

_ <How long has it been _ ?>

Chrom glances down at his tablet to read Robin’s question, and his face contorts. 

_ <Too long, it seems. _ > Robin answers his own question. He doesn’t want to know, not right now.

“I’ve… missed you,” Chrom says, and his voice breaks, and he makes a rather awful noise. 

_ <Don’t cry until I can hold you _ ,> Robin demands. It comes out before he's aware of it, before he realizes what it means.

It only makes Chrom give another of those chokes, but then he laughs, and Robin feels like laughing, too. He closes his eye, briefly, the urge to laugh in direct conflict with the tube down his throat. He can't even hum, and if he were to try it would hurt.

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” Chrom says, drumming his fingers light against the glass. “Tiki wants you to stop fighting her, can you do that?” 

Robin blinks, displeasure focused inward.  _ <I’m trying _ ,> he says. 

“Try a bit more,” Chrom says, smiling. 

Robin concentrates, but it's all too overwhelming. Tiki is everywhere, in everything, and it feels too much like what happened, for Robin, mere moments ago. 

Chrom glances away, and then at Robin once again. “Tiki wants to sedate you… will you let us?” 

Robin pauses. The pod breathes for him, pressing just the right mixture of oxygen and nitrogen into his lungs. Tiki tugs on the threads in his “hands”, and he pulls back, reflexively. 

In his condition, he can’t help as much as an outsider can… but he can’t just relinquish that control. This has been his body, his cyborg parts. After Grima nearly ended him… he wants to own it again. 

Chrom presses his cheek to the glass. Phantom memory tells Robin what his forehead would feel like against his arm, the tickling hair. It's terribly distracting. “Robin? This will go easier if you let us…” 

< _ If you sedate me… don’t wake me until I’m out of this pod.> _

Chrom glances down, eyebrows creased together. “Okay. Are you ready?”

The ping comes almost instantly.  _ <Foreign substance entering bloodstream. Evacuate?> _

Robin looks at Chrom. He knows it’s something from the suspension pod, a mild tranquilizer. He could stop it - but he doesn’t. He lets it push his awareness from his body, just a bit.

Above all else, he trusts Chrom.

_ <Okay.> _

His consciousness wavers, and a wash of numbness comes over him, dragging him under, away from the tight pressure of his body. He closes his eye, and Chrom is the last thing he sees.

~*~

Chrom looks back to Tiki when Robin stops receiving his voice. “I hope this works.” He keeps his hand pressed to the window, but doesn't look down. Seeing Robin like that… watching the light leave his eyes… 

He shudders.

“He was fighting me every ten seconds,” Tiki says, fingers flying across the three-dimensional screen. One chime and then another rings out, accepted code being verified. “He’s in there, and a little sedation won’t delete him. I just need...” She trails off, furrowing her unwrinkled brow. 

He glances down at the tablet, seeing Robin’s panic turn into acceptance, and trust. A little shiver glides up his spine. “When can we take him out of the pod?” 

Tiki glances up. “Another hour, maybe.” 

A whole hour… Chrom’s stomach sinks. “What can I do to help?” 

Tiki motions him over, and he takes his place at the second, less-used workstation. She sets him a task, and he cracks his knuckles and gets to work. 

~*~

It takes more than an hour, and more than one stim pill shoved hastily into Tiki’s mouth, but they get Robin's programming stabilized. Getting him disconnected from the pod is much easier. 

In the pod, Robin's nakedness hadn't been so apparent. His skin is cold, and almost rubbery with sweat - even with the sedative he is aware of his body’s discomfort. Chrom dresses him with care, but the clothes, soft supple garments Chrom chose for their luxuriousness, are much too large on him. Chrom is reminded of Luci trying on his combat boots.

He watches anxiously over Robin on the couch as he stirs. Tiki monitors his code from the floor. 

Robin reaches for Chrom’s hand, and holds weakly to it, increasing the tightness when Chrom tries to let go. He doesn't speak much, barely opening his eyes. Tiki reassures Chrom that this is normal, that it will take a few days for his body to clear out the rest of the pod’s lingering effects. Robin answers Tiki’s questions via the tablet, his throat the worst of the pain. 

Tiki helps Chrom get Robin to his quarters. He stumbles between them, bones clinging to Chrom’s shoulder - so frail. Perhaps he should find neutral rooms for Robin, rooms of his own, but Chrom doesn't want to admit yet that they might be needed. 

They hadn’t made many plans for their return, after that final battle - there wasn’t time - but Robin had moved in with Chrom aboard the  _ Shepherd _ . It had been to preserve space, or so they'd joked. Chrom had assumed they would live together, and that assumption now wears on him. 

He’d also assumed Robin would return to him whole, even knowing the havoc the virus had done to Robin’s code and files. He’d assumed… but seeing the frail, tired creature where he’d wanted that vibrant, attentive presence hurts in a different way. 

_ This is temporary _ . He’s been in stasis for two years. Of course it will take time to recover from that. 

But does he remember how close they used to be? Can they grow that close again?

What if Robin doesn’t want to? 

Chrom is distracted soon after Tiki leaves, when Frederick and then Lissa arrive, Luci in tow. The two adults both cry at seeing Robin. Frederick hides his sniffs in his cuff, but Lissa is more flamboyant. She flings herself at Robin, and he tiredly puts an arm around her shoulder. Lucina proclaims that Ti-ti helped him, like she knew she would. Robin says Lucina’s name, wonderingly, and Chrom's knows she's grown so much since the last time Robin saw her. 

Chrom doesn’t want to admit how relieved he is that Robin remembers his daughter. Luci curls on Chrom's lap, playing a little hand-game with Robin, who blinks tiredly at her. She's upset when Robin doesn't play as vigorously as she wants, but Chrom reminds her that he's still sick, and she settles for holding his hand instead.

Robin is quiet, drifting in and out of the conversation via messages to Chrom's tablet. His dynamic hands lie limp in his lap, eyes heavily lidded, sometimes closed completely. 

After a few minutes, Frederick rises and excuses them all from the room, pointing out Robin’s obvious tiredness. He demands that Chrom let him know if Robin needs anything further. Lucina hugs Robin, and Lissa does too. And then, with a soft swish of the door, they're gone.

Robin lolls on Chrom’s shoulder, eyes drooping closed. The tablet nearby is still.  

Chrom is glad for the peaceful moment, and taken unawares by this  _ presence _ in his life.  He's back. 

Chrom exhales shakily.

Robin will share these rooms with him. Maybe.

Chrom hasn't the heart to move them, especially not when Robin curls an arm over Chrom’s torso and tugs him closer. It's an uncomfortable twisted position, but it's also the most content Chrom’s been in two years. 

He’ll gladly take a crooked neck in the morning, if it means holding Robin like this.

~*~

After his morning appointments, Chrom rushes back to his quarters. 

Robin lays sprawled on the king-sized bed like he’s trying to make up for the small space he took up before. He hadn’t objected to being moved into the bedroom in the morning, which Chrom took as encouragement. Sunlight streams in from the wall-to-ceiling windows. A breeze moves through the room. 

Chrom sets his tablet on the nightstand and inspects the sleeping man. The pod made a faint simulation of sleep, and seeing him now, Chrom knows the differences. There’s a flush to his features, a brightness. Breath stirs his chest, and behind closed eyelids his eyes shift, dreaming or processing. His mouth parts with a larger than normal sigh, and his head turns slightly. Chrom reaches without thinking to pull the blankets up where they’ve fallen away, but stops, uncertain of his place. 

Chrom knows if he checks his tablet he will see Robin’s vitals are all good. He consented to the wrist monitor when Chrom asked for it, but Chrom knows it reminds him of the pod. 

He leans over to remove the monitor from his outflung wrist, too thin. 

Robin shifts, pulling his arm away, and looks up at him. 

Chrom trembles. “Oh,” he says, uncertain. “I was just going to take this off…” 

Robin drops his hand back into Chrom’s, his eyes weighing on Chrom, causing him to fumble at the latch. 

When Chrom finally removes the monitor, Robin takes his wrist and tugs. Chrom sits beside him, aware of the strength in that hand. 

Robin doesn’t let go, and Chrom doesn’t pull away. He misses the easy touch, and is desperate for more. He studies Robin’s face for cues. What does he remember? The question ran through Chrom’s mind through all his meetings, a low-energy distraction, the thoughts spinning tight and tighter in his head. There's nothing in the delicate movements of his eyelashes, his pale brows, that communicates what he expects of Chrom. 

“Hey,” Robin says, eyebrows tensing and relaxing. “Chrom.” 

“Hey,” Chrom echoes, and thinks for a moment he might be sick. Hearing his own name only makes him eager for more. His thumb is tracing patterns on the back of Robin’s hand, and he stills it with a quick glance, annoyed with himself. 

“I missed you,” Robin says, and Chrom remembers Robin writing,  _ <Don’t cry until I can hold you.> _

“You were asleep for most of it,” Chrom says, feeling a bit defensive, although he’s not sure why. 

But Robin smiles. “I still missed you.” 

It hurts. 

Robin’s grip gradually loosens, but he doesn’t let go. Robin’s flesh looks warm and soft, and Chrom wants to know, to re-prove to himself what it feels like to caress him, to hold him close. 

Chrom only realizes he’s staring when Robin catches him at it, but his smile is kind and not disapproving. 

“There are gaps in my memories,” Robin says. His voice fills in the gaps in Chrom’s memory, like adding color to a black and white still. “I think I remember…” He sighs, and slants his eyes down. “There’s no easy way to ask this. Were we lovers?” 

Chrom swallows dryly, hoping it’s not as loud as it sounds in his own head. “We were more than that. We still are… if you want.” 

Robin looks up. Chrom can’t read that expression, the wide eyes, the subtle lean toward him. “Really?” 

“Of course, Robin.” Chrom’s chest hurts, and he raises Robin’s hand - his real hand, not that it matters - to press a kiss to his knuckles. In the next moment, he worries that maybe he shouldn’t have done that, that it was too forward, but if Robin is asking that question, then he must remember some of their time spent together. He must know what Chrom feels for him… but does he still feel the same?

Robin’s eyes are soft and watery, and he raises his fingers to caress Chrom’s cheek - a familiar gesture that Chrom didn’t realize he missed until just now. 

Chrom ducks his head away to sweep at his eyes. 

“You… waited for me, didn’t you?” Robin's question sounds delicate, like a bird landing on a branch.

A tenuous smile stretches Chrom’s mouth. “Of course I did. You weren’t really gone…” He remembers, with a bit of guilt, Frederick’s and Lissa’s attempts to convince him that he needed to grieve Robin, rather than holding onto this ridiculous hope. 

Robin studies him now, and Chrom senses he's coming to a decision. 

“Would you kiss me?” Robin asks, and licks his chapped, dry lips. He’s breathing a little fast. 

Chrom takes Robin’s hand again, and leans in, hesitant. Robin closes his eyes and rises toward it, mouth slightly pursed. Eager. 

Chrom’s head spins a bit, and his eyes burn. He kisses Robin, soft and gentle, barely much of a kiss at all, and then he puts his face into the pillow beside Robin’s ear, stifling his sharp breaths. Robin’s arms come up around him and he makes a wordless sound of comfort into his neck, and it’s too much. Having Robin back is everything he's wanted for two years, while doing his duty to his people and everything else - Robin’s gaping absence made itself apparent everywhere. And now that he's back… 

A sob breaks out of his mouth and he grabs Robin and pulls him close. “I missed - you,” he chokes. 

“I’m back now, Chrom,” Robin soothes, and his voice is like a satin balm to his soul, thawing his cold certainty. Chrom doesn't know how he forgot that timbre, the way his mouth curls around Chrom’s name. “I… I don’t remember everything, but I remember you promised me… a wedding by the ocean… and writing our names in the sand.” 

It only makes Chrom cry harder. For two long years, Chrom didn’t let himself cry, although the absence ached a little more every day. He refused to mourn, to admit he’d lost his best friend and lover… to accept his absence as anything other than temporary. 

Now, it’s as if all those doubts which he quashed deep inside have sprung up, wanting to be felt. Chrom sobs, experiencing every milestone of his peaceful, Robin-less reign anew. Robin holds him through it until it subsides, fingers tracing delicate patterns up his spine. As they both fall silent, something new and comfortable takes up the space where words should go. They lie there, easy and calm, for a time. 

Chrom levers himself up on an elbow. “I fought for you,” Chrom says, a bit sheepish now. 

Robin’s eyes drag, but he’s watching and listening. There’s not an ounce of pity or disapproval in his expression. 

Chrom sucks in a breath and continues, “I fought for you when everyone else told me to let you go. You probably… you probably would have wanted me to stop at some point… but I didn’t.” 

“You are rather stubborn, from what I remember,” Robin says, and thumbs the remaining wetness from his cheeks. “I can’t believe you got rid of the virus.” 

“That was mostly Tiki,” Chrom says, and presses his mouth into Robin’s palm, then reaches for the other palm and kisses that too. Pink flushes across Robin’s nose, and Chrom kisses him there. 

“Don’t get your tears all over me,” Robin says, pushing him gently away, but there is water gathering in the corners of his eyes, glittering in the reflective sunlight off the balcony floor. 

They lean close, forehead to forehead. Robin’s breathing is soft but audible, the constant reminder that he still exists. His eyelashes brush against the bridge of Chrom’s nose, and Chrom thinks this is what heaven must feel like, this moment right here.

“You know… the Plegians created me to get close to you,” Robin whispers. His words slur together, a mark of his lingering tiredness. “They sent me to you and they sent me the Grima virus… They could do it again…”

Chrom leans in, tilting for another kiss, then sinks onto the pillow beside Robin. “Tiki deleted all their backdoor accesses. You don't have to worry about that ever again.”

Robin’s eyes widen, and then glaze over as he leaps into the codes to check. 

“She did!” Robin says, smiling. “I could never fix them myself…” 

“We removed those protocols, too. You are your own man, Robin, before you are a son of Plegia.”

Robin smiles. “Thank you.”

“Don't ever scare me like that again.” He means for it to come out teasing, but his words are edged. 

Robin regards him. “As long as you never wake me trapped in a pod again.” A shudder runs through his body, gathered in Chrom’s arms. “I remembered something… from before.” 

Chrom makes a soft noise, a sound to continue. Somewhere nearby, Chrom’s tablet chirps, but he ignores it.

“I was whole before they made me this way. There was no defect, no injury. They took my arm-” his voice is growing rougher, sandpaper. “-and inserted all this tech in my head. They made me into a weapon to kill  _ you _ .” 

“You… remember that?” Chrom stares. “Robin…” Without thinking, his hand stills over the ridge, through the fabric of his shirt, where metal meets flesh. 

Anger brightens Robin’s eyes, sets his jaw. “If you hadn't already beaten them, I'd be going over there now.”

“I wish Validar were alive, so I could kill him again.” 

The fury leeches from Robin’s face, all at once, and the tension in his body follows it. He sinks back into the bed, and draws in a slow, measured breath. 

“You’re whole,” Chrom says. “You’re whole, and you’re back with me, and we thwarted all their plans.” He presses his nose to Robin’s face. 

“We did.” Robin smiles, drained by his outburst. 

Chrom shifts him closer, relaxing into the bed with Robin pillowed on his chest, now. 

His tablet chirps again. 

“You should get that,” Robin murmurs. 

“Hmmm,” Chrom growls. “They can wait.” 

“If it’s Frederick, he’ll be displeased.” 

Chrom sighs, and drags the tablet over to him, keeping Robin close with his other arm. He props the tablet on his stomach and studies the projection. It is from Frederick, reminding him of his over-full calendar. He’s resorted to vague threats about < _ leaving the poor man to recover his strength _ >, or he’ll enter the room to drag him bodily out. 

From this angle, Robin’s eyes seem closed, but he snorts. “You should listen to Frederick.” 

“Robin,” Chrom says. “Will you marry me? I - I mean, if you feel up to it...” He hadn’t meant to blurt that out, hadn’t  _ wanted  _ to say it. 

Robin sits up, and stares down at Chrom. There’s a smile dancing across his mouth before Chrom’s even done speaking. “I will, Chrom… you know I will. Did you really need to ask?” 

He did, actually. 

Something slides home in Chrom’s chest, the final missing piece of a puzzle. For a wild moment, he almost hears that soft chime, a bit of code accepted and integrated. Robin wants this, remembers  _this..._

“I love you,” he says. 

Robin raises his hand and caresses his cheek. “I love you too.” He hovers over Chrom’s mouth, breath gentle against his lips. “Now go on, and let this ‘poor man recover his strength’.” 

Chrom rises up and rolls them over. His hand finds Robin's and twines their fingers together. “Maybe in a little while,” he says, grinning.

And Robin, despite his tiredness, grabs his cheek and pulls him into a fierce kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> For the Happily Ever After Chrobinweek2018 Prompt!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought! <3 (Also, my apologies for the extra spacing surrounding Italics... AO3 doesn't like Google Docs formatting and I know I didn't catch all of the errors... hoping to go back a little later and clean them up.)
> 
> This is the end of this story for now, although I did get a good idea for an epilogue of sorts. But at 6k words... I decided I needed to cut this one here. Thanks go to Ari for helping me with titles and for talking through this idea with me. (Also, the readers can thank Esme for talking me into making this a happy ending.)


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